


All the Wrong Things

by WriteMessyShit



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexuality, Body Image, Cousin Incest, Dark Skinned Madara, Drunk Sex, F/M, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Gen, Infidelity, Kissing, M/M, Marijuana, Neck Kissing, Non-Linear Narrative, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Smoking, Smut, Uchiha Madara-centric, Vaginal Fingering, Vignette, Workplace Relationship, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:07:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24301861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriteMessyShit/pseuds/WriteMessyShit
Summary: According to everyone, Uchiha Madara has done many things wrong in life.He never performed as well in school as his colleagues. He didn’t choose a profitable major. He didn’t get a good enough job, and still hasn’t landed a promotion. At 35, he isn’t yet married with kids. And it’s probably because he’s fat and lazy, according to his father.But there are many things Tajima doesn’t know about his eldest son.Madara hasn’t loved anyone other than Senju Hashirama for as long as he can remember. But when his best friend and boss gets engaged, Madara descends into a downward spiral. When he comes out, he realizes all he’ll ever be is a disappointment. So why try to be anything else?See his latest failure: falling in love with his cousin.Technically, Kyoko is his third cousin twice-removed. He checked. And Father would still murder him if he found out.But Madara does not intend to recover from this "shortcoming." To Kyoko, all of his blemishes are beautiful. And maybe, just maybe, his many pitfalls aren’t what they seem. Is anything really so objective? Is he really a failure?
Relationships: Senju Hashirama & Uchiha Madara, Senju Tobirama & Original Female Character(s), Uchiha Madara/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. How She Feels

**Author's Note:**

> This is a non-linear work comprised of many vignettes from Madara's point of view.
> 
> Once I'm finished writing, I may come back and edit the order of the chapters, but please know that the events in this story are out of order on purpose. i.e. chapter one is not the first thing that happens in the timeline. Currently there's not a huge, well-thought-out rhyme or reason to the chosen chronology, but if that changes I'll leave an update.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally published as a separate work. I've just moved it here to keep things organized and more clear. It makes sense to keep these vignettes consolidated better.

She wants to be held everywhere.

Maybe one day it'll get tedious. That's what my right mind tells me. But I don't care right now. I don't imagine caring much in the future either. My arms wrap around her in the shower, and she leans against me. She's warm, and the water rushes over my back, down her front. She pulls her sopping curls to one side, and I kiss down from her ear. Each touch seems to prick her, as she melts deeper into me. Her smile still makes my heart flutter. I can't get over it.

We fit together so easily. I never want to wonder why, not anymore. It all makes sense. She feels like my soulmate, another one. She laughs when my fingers brush her stomach. I pull her closer as she squirms and turns. She buries her face in my neck, her arms wrapped around me now. Her breasts press into my chest, her stomach against mine. I never ever want it to end. I tell her that. She says she would gladly turn into a prune with me. We giggle together.

I feel so young.

The water flows on and on over us. I love her, I tell her. Her lips kiss my neck, she squeezes me harder, closer. She loves me too.

That's all there is in my world. I like it this way.


	2. Bodies — of Gods and Men

I've never had abs. Maybe in high school I had less body fat. When I got into college, Father told me to lose weight. At that point it was "for my own health." Once I graduated, it was so I could "attract my future wife."

Kyoko likes my body, or so she says. Sometimes, I feel good in it. Sometimes I don't really notice. Today I can't see anything else.

Waking up with her is magical. Maybe it's still my hormones kicking in. I love her so much. I see the sun shining through the window in her eyes. The sheets ripple over her body, slipping down her ribs. Her breasts slump with gravity. I want to kiss every inch of her. She's so beautiful. I don't want her to ever feel like me.

I ask her if she thinks I need to lose weight. It's not the first time I've asked. She says no. She likes me this way. I try to believe her. Sitting up in bed only scrunches my stomach. I stand up, exposed to the open sunlight, to the world. I always feel more confident drunk or high. I never feel like I have to hide then. But even with boxers, I feel naked. I glance back at her. She watches me with that smile. I roll my eyes.

She sees something else. I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, waiting for the shower water to heat up. The elastic waistband pushes into my sides. I pull down my boxers. Still, there are love-handles. Why are they called that? I don't love them. I feel better covered up, when I can't see any of this. I try to suck in, to flex. Maybe there are abs under there somewhere. I can only see my ribs now, and my belly looks smaller, but not toned. I need to exercise.

I sit down on the shower stool. The hot water runs through my hair and down my back. I shudder.

Only now can I even keep up with Kyoko in bed. At the start, I got tired so quickly. I was out of shape. I'm only marginally better now. The soreness in my legs and hips has gone away. I feel better usually. Until the endorphins wear off.

I look down at my stomach again. It's puffed out, patchy with thin and thick hair. My chest almost looks like breasts. They're naked and smooth except for the nipples. Sometimes I really curse my dark, curly-haired genes. I press a hand over my stomach and push in, sucking in again. Why does she like me?

Maybe it's more my personality. Even that feels like a stretch. I can see it in comparison to Tobirama. He's a hardass. But he's good-looking. He's trim and fit, slim, a tall 6'1. They honestly look dashing together when they pose for formals. She's a goddess, he's a god.

What am I? I stare down at my hairy stomach. There's a fucking ingrown hair. I've been passively itching it. It's inflamed. I hunch over my knees, the thick hair of my legs brushing my forearms. The water rushes over my neck. I stare at my toes pressing against the white tile.

Not a god.


	3. Sama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having your secret girlfriend work for you in the office is both the best thing and the worst thing (and you know what 'worst' means).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another non-linear, easily stand-alone installment. Have fun. It's just straight up porn.
> 
> Edited for tense.

I'm honestly just looking down her shirt.

When she first realizes it, she doesn't even care. And now, she looks up at me every few sentences just to watch me drool, her hand running cleverly up the thigh of my pants. I really am going to lose it. It takes everything to pay attention to that computer screen, to actually read through her issue. It's just before lunch, so we largely have time to waste. I tell myself that, leaning over her shoulder. Her fingers brush my hand on the mouse. God, it's been days. Agonizing days.

“Sorry to bother you, Madara-sama.”

The quiet voice reaches my ears. I freeze, careful but stiff in turning to look behind me. I won’t let my body fully straighten. The new intern, Akane Naomi, holds a stack of files against her body, her gaze barely meeting mine before falling quickly to the floor. Her stance makes her look even smaller than she is.

“Here are the files from upstairs that you requested for review. Where would you like me to place them, sir?”

“Thank you, Akane-san. You can place them on my desk.”

She bows deeply. “Yes, sir.” Turning quickly, she rushes off, nearly speed walking to my open office door. God, why does she remind me of a mouse? She's been here for all of two weeks and is a nervous wreck around any male authority figure in the office. She continually refers to me with those overblown honorifics even after I correct her. I'm in no way deserving of the title “-sama”, even as the head of marketing. But even after gently reminding her of this, she replies with a ‘yes, sir.’

I turn my attention back to Kyoko. She's smiling. I ignore her grin. I know what she's going to say. That poor terrified college student doesn’t need any bullying.

“Anything else I need to see before lunch?” I ask lowly, my thumb brushing her fingers. Her gaze rests on the computer screen. She adjusts her shirt, her bra peeking out from under her v-neck. Black and lacy, cupping her dark, freckled breasts just right. God, to see those puppies bounce. I want to see that bra slip off her shoulders drop to the floor. Right now.

“Maybe a couple of things,” she murmurs, pausing. “If that’s alright with you, Madara-sama.”

Oh, for fuck's sake.

“Don’t start with me.”

“Oh, I’m so dreadfully sorry, Madara-sama. I don’t mean to bother, but could I request to have lunch with you today? I have some questions about the standard grammar manual.”

I don’t even bother with a rebuttal. Standing up straight, I nod as Shimuzu bows in leave for lunch break. His juniors follow him in tow.

“Might I offer to make you a special cup of hot tea, Madara-sama? It’s a special tea that I made myself just for you specifically, catered to your tastes.”

“You’re so jealous, aren’t you. Twenty-seven and pissing on a college student. Incredible.”

“Oh, Madara-sama, I’m dreadfully sorry, I did not mean to insult you and disrespect your greatness. I am always of service to you constantly and continually, it is my reason for existence, Madara-sama. Please put me in my place with proper disciplinary measures at once, sir. I won’t disappoint you again.”

I shake my head, walking into my office to grab my coat and wallet. She follows, carrying her things already. Of course, she has more to say.

“Madara-sama, I’m so indebted to you. You are truly the greatest marketing head I’ve ever met, and I’ll do anything to become your apprentice.”

“Kyoko.”

“May I ask you a question please?”

“What.”

“May I call you Madara-senpai?”

“No, Kyoko.”

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry for offending you--”

I look her dead in the eye, throwing my coat over my shoulder. “You say one more word in that voice and you’re really going to get it. I mean it.”

She feigns shock. “But Madara-sama, I am but a delicate, demure woman who could not possibly have any vile thoughts of any sexual nature.” I roll my eyes, and she continues, way too committed. My eyes travel to the doorway, scanning the empty office. I walk toward the door.

“If you must,” she whimpers. “If you must punish me for my insolence, I cannot stop you. Do what you will with me, Madara-sama, for who am I to stop you!”

I stare at her, wide-eyed.

“Are you done?”

She only gazes back doe-eyed, barely concealing the smile curling at her lips. But she says nothing. I gesture toward the open door.

“Oh, no, Madara-sama,” she whispers, barely holding back a laugh. “A man must always go first.”

“You say one more word like that--”

“Oh, Madara-sama.”

“I swear to god.”

I close the door and lock it. How fast her coat falls from her shoulders is beyond a miracle. I grab her by the waist and tickle her. She shrieks, her arms pressing into my chest with a force, until I let up. Her cry echoes too much for my comfort. I stop, and she wraps her arms around my neck lazily. Her smile curls, her lips painted a deep purple.

I kiss her. I can't help it. She doesn’t make it any better. She pulls me in further. My lips will be so stained. I don’t care. She has makeup wipes in her purse. Her tongue brushes against mine, my hand runs down to her ass, pulling and pressing her into my cock. She moans. I push her into my desk.

“Take off that top.”

She snorts. “Yes, Madara-sama.”

“Shut the hell up, or I’m gonna wreck you right here.”

“Oh, Madara-sama, teach me a lesson. I’m sorry I used the Oxford comma.”

“Oh my god, Kyoko, seriously?”

Her shirt opens at the front. I forget all about everything.

* * *

I don’t think I’ll ever get over office sex.

She was already hella worked up. I snagged the vibrator from my locked drawer and made her beg to cum. Feeling my cock press dangerously against the crotch of my pants, feeling how wet she was against my fingers, slipping her skirt up over her thighs, laying her down over the wood of my desk. The way her breasts sat over her ribcage, locked up perfectly by that lacy black bra, where I could half pinch her nipples if she arched her back just right—pure torture. Her face was nearly smeared with sweat, almost tears of indignance, too. ‘Am I too harsh?’ I thought at one point close to the end. ‘Does she really need to be punished too hard for that? For what, making fun of a poor intern? Yes. No cumming for her.’ Oh, she hated that. And I was way too much of a softie. She came all over my desk.

“Seriously, the things you make me fucking do.”

She quietly hands me another paper towel and continues to dig through her purse. She's silent as ever now. Thank god.

“Now, we barely have time for lunch.”

She pulls out a makeup wipe and starts cleaning my face, like a mother would wipe a child’s face, especially a child who was not interested in having their face wiped at the moment. I'm multitasking. Trying to clean up my desk, trying to let her wipe the lipstick off my face, trying not to think about my raging boner. When I glance over at her, watching her discard the makeup wipe in the trash, she's smiling.

“Are you happy with yourself?” I ask. She only hums shortly. Of course she doesn’t care. She got to cum.

I ball up the paper towel and cross around my desk to throw it in the trash. As I turn, she pushes me lightly back against the edge of the tabletop. Her fingers press and spread across my thighs, ghosting my throbbing bulge, my ass bisected by the sharp edge of the desk. Her fingers deftly undo my belt.

“Kyoko, we don’t have time.” But I don’t stop her.

She deep-throats me right away. Her saliva leaves a gloss on my shaft, a string and glob dripping to the floor as she takes a break to breathe, and I cum without warning. The rush of it is too much to even prepare for. Her tits are just spilling out of her bra. She rubs my tip over her breasts as I continue to cum. All over her tits. Her lipstick stains my cock mauve. Sweat runs down my face.

I breathe.

“Fuck.”

“Hm, yeah.” She guides my hand to touch her puffy breasts as I go flaccid. I cup her, squeeze her, rub my semen across her cleavage, lick it off her. Suck and nibble on a tit for a minute.

And of course, after all that, I'm starting to get hard again.

* * *

I wipe myself off with a paper towel. She's doing the same with her breasts.

“Where do you want to go for lunch?” I ask.

“What choice do we have besides Penkuro’s? They’re the fastest one.”

“Don’t worry about that. Where do you want?”

She looks at me. “Madara.” She looks indignant, but she's blushing. “We’ll get back late.”

“I said don’t worry about it.”

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever you say.” She fastens her shirt in the front and tucks it into the waistband of her skirt. I buckle my belt.

“That tea and soup shop a few blocks north,” she says finally.

“Ichiwa’s? More than a few blocks.”

“Fine. I thought time wasn’t an issue.”

“It’s not.”

“Let’s go to Penkuro’s then.”

“No, we’re going to Ichiwa’s.”

“Madara.”

“Don’t ever call me Madara-sama again, you hear? I’m treating you right now, on that condition only.”

She grins the biggest grin I’ve ever seen. A victory smile.

“Yes, sir.”

I roll my eyes so hard, I’m sure my head would have popped off my shoulders if it wasn’t attached. I grab her by the waist, and she giggles furiously as I pull her with me to the door.


End file.
